PS 35Z5 My Rose and Other Poems By EUPHEMIA MACLEOD ► Class _T53A2_S__. Book.^^_£J_qLMi Cop}TightN«.___LiiS_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSm MY ROSE AND OTHER POEMS MY ROSE AND OTHER POEMS BY EUPHEMIA MACLEOD Author of "Seances With (Jarlyle" Boston The Four Seas Company 1919 Copyright, ipip, by The Four Seas Company Tlie Four Seas Press Boston, Mass., U. S. A. ©Ct.A530781 TO LORD LEIGH PRESIDENT THE NATIONAL ANTI-VIVISECTION SOCIETY^ LONDON "Res est sacra miser." Sen. Ep. 4 CONTENTS My Rose ii A Soul 12 The Conquerors 13 The Priesthood of Pain 15 Compline 16 The Yellow Calla 17 Casals' Cello 18 Summer Noon 20 My Garden in Autumn 21 Morituri Comprecamur 22 Dwellers in the Moss 24 The Indwelling Soul 25 The Postern Gate of Heaven 26 For the Dumb Creation 28 With Roses 29 Fireweed 30 The Litany of the Lesser Souls .... 31 Colour 32 Communion 34 Your Little Flower 35 The Captive Lion 36 The Call of Valhalla 38 The Spell of Casals 39 Your Coming 50 Friendship 51 The Ballade of the War Horse 52 Evolution 54 Christ's Humble Hosts 55 CONTENTS "Not a Sparrow" 56 In the Woods 57 A Sun Shower 59 The Prayer of the Dumb Creatures ... 60 The Awakening Stream 62 Winter 64 Strength in Weakness 65 "Is It Nothing To You, All Ye Who Pass BYf" 66 "I Thirst" 68 "It Is Finished" 69 Faith 71 Change 72 A Field of Dandelions 73 The Patriarch of the Marsh 74 After the Cavalry Charge 75 Ira Justa yy Endeavor 78 Evening 80 The Parish Nurse 81 Autumn Leaves in the Wind 83 "God Is the Defender of All Such" ... 34 The Fowls of the Air 85 Arnold's "Last Word" 87 The Call of Summer 89 After the War Is Over 90 The Word Made Flesh 92 Crimson Altar Flowers 94 The Drinking Fountain 95 Into the Hands of a Faithful Creator . . 96 Incense of Thanksgiving 98 MY ROSE AND OTHER POEMS MY ROSE Seven times steeped in the flaming dawn, And seven in dusky eve, Plunged in passionate pain and drawn Through throbbing airs that weave, Silently, thrillingly, round on round, The damask petals glow. With spicy wine-red shadows bound About the heart below. Where were you, O you Rose of mine, Or e'er you were my Rose? How your Giver could I devine, In far-off flowerf ul close ? How foreknow that it would befall That ye would come to me ? Binding fast in a rose-leaf thrall, A heart till now so free ! [II] A SOUL Fiat! — a flash cleaves the burning blue Thrilling its depths, and a new soul is born ! Threading its pathway, without a clue, Through the far maze of a wonderful morn Touching the Earth with its shaft of gold Tangled in rioting colour and scent, Down to its place in the world, to hold Essence of God in a clay vessel pent. Drawn from the Infinite Rest and Love, Tossed on existence of trouble and sin. Flung from ineffable heights above, Down to tlie hate and the clamourous din. Choked by its dust and befouling breath, Caught in its meshes of glamour and guile, Hurled to abysses of mouldering death. Yearning for respite and rest the while. Out of the tumult and cark and dole, Winning through steady endurance to peace ; Borne to where mystical paeans roll. Drowning Earth's discords, which, fainting, surcease; Caught in a glory without alloy, — Ended the way that the bruised feet have trod ; Flaming on pinions of strength and joy. Winging victorious onward to God! [12] THE CONQUERORS With eyes uplifted to the stars, With faces gleaming pale, With cruel marks of ancient scars. They pass by hill and vale. The sacerdotal road of Pain The great procession treads, — All shelterless the blessed train When threatening storm-cloud spreads. Their shining vestments brushed aside The robe beneath reveal, Pain- woven on Life's loom, and dyed Blood-red 'neath Sorrow's wheel. They walk the thorn-grown ways of Life And stony uplands bare. Through regions ghast, with perils rife, Where spines and thistles tear. With shrinking, tortured feet they wend O'er brambles and o'er stone. From crag to bleaker crag ascend, — But none hath heard them moan. They smooth the jagged, bruising rocks. Uproot the branching thorn. That others, breasting tempest-shocks, May find a footpath worn. [13] The burden of all lives is borne Upon their priestly heart, — The loneliness, the pain, the scorn, — In silence borne, apart. And none may know their dole save He Who leads them to their bourne, — His standard but the nail-pierced tree, His crown, the wayside thorn. [H] THE PRIESTHOOD OF PAIN What are the glorious robes we wear? — Night's deep jet. And violet. Heart's blood of crimson, and, transmutably Flooding the world, rich green, immutably Hope-thrilled; lily-white; and rare Broidered gold and silver fair. What do we bear on our paten's gold ? — Winnowed grain Of poignant pain, Ground with the stone of utter weariness, Purified thrice in hopeless dreariness. — Wan hands these, the Bread that hold. Hands which bleed with wounds untold. What is o'er-brimming our golden cup? — Rich pressed wine From Life's hurt vine. Fragrant it is and very flavourous, Passionate throes have rendered it savorous. Deep-steeped woe we bravely sup, As we lift our Chalice up. Whose is the Presence that waits our turn Hearts' faint beat With solace sweet, Visioned through incense vapour sapphirine, Clothed in effulgence soft and vespertine. Kingly, yet so sorrow-worn? — Lo, He wears ... a crown of thorn ! [15] COMPLINE A Seraph's flaming pinions flushed The paHng western sky ; when straight, — A scarlet flood of colour gushed And crimson with no earthly mate, Commingled in one heavenly hue Which tincted the horizon's blue. Heaven's open gates shed living lights That tipped the Seraph's spreading plumes SuflFusing all the sapphire heights; While, as the altar-light illumes The space around the central glow, A bronzy haze held all below; Within whose depths — a blur of gold — The evening star kept vigil lone. The brown earth caught on field and wold, On pine and shrub, on pool and stone, The glory of the dying day. Which on it like a vestment lay. The Seraph raising wings of flame. Evanished in the upper blue ; And drooping purple shadows came. That deepened as the darkness grew. Till lo, the moon, through misty veil. Gazed down. Madonna-like and pale. i6] THE YELLOW CALLA LILY Samite-wove substance, of glamorous sheen, Bathed in the glow of the rapturous morn ; Welded with earth-sap and moulded unseen, Deep in the adytum of the unborn. Lustrous patina where soft glories shine, Sceptral, voluted, — amphora of gold. Far in its depths shadowed splashes of wine, Richer than rubies, its sheathings enfold. Flashes of beryl flit faint round its spathe. Tinting its curve with the ichor of Spring; Anthers, close-clustered, the daffodil rathe Rob of its yellowness, heavily cling. Fashioned of sunshine, its wealth to proclaim; Beauty, in sumptuous splendor, to weave; — Lush is the blooming, outvying the flame Born of the Dawn and the glory of Eve ! [17] CASAL'S CELLO Hush of prescient Silence! — Through aerial bars, Singing bells of tawny glory drift. Floating down the misty, wonder- way of stars; Touch, and from the too-live touching, swift, Flee in tangled mazes ; spheres of cobweb gold, Humid, filmy, spun of flowing light, In its path of mellow undulation rolled. Into glory passing sound and sight. . . . Changed the rapt enchantment of the magic bow; — Limpid rain of liquid gold aslope Pours in petillant beads on golden pools below ; Each mellifluous, matchless, melting drop Pulsing with canorous beat impellent through Floods of golden foam, that, falling, flow Into shattering, crystal-sounding showers, which strew, In ethereal rhythm, the under-glow. Stillness, — and a half -born shadow of a sound Hovers, fades, and slips, melodious, faint, Into resonance of feeling, calm, profound. — With the music's quickening, sweet constraint, Living coruscations dart, dissolving; — lo! Lapped in flames of loveliness that mass, Merged in tremulous cadences, the throbbings slow, Ebbing, dying — into Silence pass. Flooding down through great, sonorous deeps of Song, Harmonies reverbrant stir the vain [i8] Dark, and shake the fearsome gulfs of gloom, while strong Sinews of immortal sound upstrain, Mount in pealing chords and filaments of light, Span the void from Earth to Heaven ! — Then, Seraphs sing, while beat their joyous pinions bright, Praise to God, Who gives such power to men ! [19] SUMMER NOON White gulls circle 'twixt the earth and sky ; Now dipping low, the ocean caps that vie With them in whiteness to rebuke; again, With sudden flash up mounting, poised remain, Their wings clear cut against the dazzling blue; While overhead, like kindred birds, slow through The slumbrous heaven's expanse the soft clouds trail. Their shadows splash the deep sea's sounding swale Of golden green with bars of burning blue And violet transparent glooms. A few Small sails are gleaming snowy bright, the high Untempered sun, beneath his kindling eye Perfervid, quells the restless earth. The meek Sands, blanched, reflect his flaming thought, and seek In stillness to retrieve their too much light. The beach flowers bend in heavy clusters, dight With day's most ardent beams. The breath of pines Comes warm and fragrant from the wood. The vines Have closed their rosy trumpets' sweetness in. — The breathings of a drowsy hush begin. [20] • MY GARDEN IN AUTUMN The purple pansy holdeth up The drop of gold in its sheeny cup, The velvet foxglove bendeth low Its full-blown trumpet's rosy glow. The stock doth wear a crimson gown, The daisy lifteth its ruddy crown, The faint verbena wafteth sweet Its fugitive fragrance round my feet. The cricket's treble calleth clear To hasten the steps of the halting year, The rich sun poureth misty beams Over the hedge to tlie path of dreams; My heart doth beat in fuller tone. Though through my garden I walk alone; The year's fruition cometh nigher, — And swiftly cometh my heart's desire! [21] MORITURI COMPRECAMUR To have lived: — to have tasted many fruits, Eaten heavenly food, and bitter roots, Sucked the maddening juices penetrant And the bitterest ooze of poison-plant; To have quaffed ruddy, ichor-stirring wine. Or the dregs of a bitter anodyne: — This it is to have lived, From dust emanatived. Ere the golden- wrought bowl be broken past All restoring, the silver cord at last Be unloosed forever, we who rise At the voice of the bird, so feeble-wise, Would recover our strength before we go Where we need not the light, nor feel the snow And the wind-driven rain, Nor greet the mom again. For so much has been lost forever. Turn Back the sweep of our days. For rest we yearn. And tranquillity. Gone the goading pain Of desire; to the hungered heart remain But benumbing quiescence and futile grasp Of the shards of broken joy ; we clasp. In our quavering hands. Each granule of Life's sands. Come, all ye we befriended on our road, And ye hated, whom, adding load to load, [22] We oppressed and o'er-thwarted. Boots it now That we loved or we hated ? Nay, we trow That the length of our years should merit naught But a boon. Then heap high the platter, fraught With delights clustered up, And overflow our cup ! [23] DWELLERS IN THE MOSS Housed in dewy splendour, hedged with velvet green, Happy little creatures, served by mould and star, Clad by cosmic forces in a jewelled sheen. Housed in dewy splendour, hedged with velvet green. Fed with food befitting, fine as ours I ween, Loved and helped by heaven as the angels are. Housed in dewy splendour, hedged with velvet green, Happy little creatures, served by mould and star. [24] THE INDWELLING SOUL O sweetest Soul, That rulest all our souls, Indwelling in the unconscious Infinite; And yet the little flower's fragile cup Upliftest to our spirits' reverent sight, O'er-brimmed with Thy most fragrant sweetness, flushed With all the tender glory of Thy might. Most gentle Soul, That livest humbly strong, Within the cool green veins that feed the grass Upon the hillside, rustling in the breeze. That also is Thy home ; the wind shall pass. The blade grow sere; but Thou, Eternal Life, Wilt still abide through all the living mass. O beauteous Soul, revealing loveliness And radiance veiled in sun-caught cloud, or poured With lavish largess down the torrent's flood ; — The insect's wing of jewelled film a hoard Of beauty, perfect as the evening sky. For Thou art there, its Essence and its Lord. Thou wondrous Soul, beyond our highest thought ; — Whose garments touch the folds of ours ; Thou King, Thou All, in Whom these lesser selves are held; Due worship would Thy many children bring: From leaf and stream, from beast, from human souls, There pulses back Thine own Heart's cherishing. [25] THE POSTERN GATE OF HEAVEN The massive portals swing ajar, To trumpets flourish moving; And thunderous blasts are borne afar, The sky's deep pathways grooving With many a cadent star. Lo, flaming angels throng the gate, To greet the hosts that enter ; The martyr soldiers borne elate. The hero in the centre. Whom diadems await. In pomp the martial pageant goes Along the heavenly highway, To find the fair, unwithering Rose, They missed on Earth's rough byway. Where harsh the thistle grows. The Father, on His lofty Throne, Receives them to His Bosom, And gives to each a pure white stone And sprays of Sharon's Blossom With sweetnesses full blown. Then summons He His winged ones. With charities soft shining, To hew a gate, with sapphire suns Its jasper portals lining. And cleave a space that runs, [26] With cooling streams and healing shade, Past chalcedony meadows, To downs of green, and watered glade Of amethystine shadows, Where none shall make afraid. Now, welcome to the fields of God, Ye chargers from the battle ! Whose hooves on splintered shards have trod, Whose ears the rifles' rattle Has deafened.— Now, unshod, With tossing mane, ye brave, pass through ! Your nostrils sniff the fragrant. Refreshing airs !— As wont to do Are free-born things, ye, vagrant. Rejoice the long days through ! [27] FOR THE DUMB CREATION Ye have no cup To hold the wine of your sorrow, And so it foameth up, And on the morrow No sign remains Of all your pains. Ye have no voice To tell when ye are mourning And when ye would rejoice. So foolish scorning Assails your heart In bitter part. O, let me hold The chalice up of my prayers. Enshrining in its gold Your cruel cares, The needless pain, The wreaked disdain. Till Heaven a-thrill Transmute the moaning impassioned, With grace the chalice fill, And woes compassioned Shall comfort find, Since God is kind. [28] WITH ROSES Roses to my heart's dear Rose,- Blushingly their leaves unclose, Leaning, droopingly aware Of the greater sweetness there. [29] FIRE-WEED A splash of crimson steeped in filtering sunshine, A flame of amethyst against the blue, Where crowding balsams stand aside in patches To let the clearer light beyond pour through. A breath of sunrise fire transformed to blossom And pulsing in the slumbrous afternoon; A wave of living colour on the greenness That spreads knee-deep its flowering grasses boon. A rosy foam upon a misty ocean Of breeze-swept verdure, rippling to the feet Of tapering trees, whose serried boughs unstirring Curve sombre in the quivering azure heat. I bathe my spirit in your vivid beauty, Rare weeds, that aye bedeck the charked lands And steal from death a glamour not surpassed In gardens tended by our human hands. [30] THE LITANY OF THE LESSER SOULS Men are praying in sacred fane, Sinner, outcast, saint and seer ; Incense-clouds mist the glowing pane, And the solemn chants upstrain. Borne to the Listening Ear. Jesus of Calvary, hear! From the glorious world about. From the saddened world and drear, Swells the jubilant victors' shout, Moan the helpless, crying out, Voicing their torture and fear. Jesus of Calvary, hear ! Holy hands pour the vintage red, Break the bread of thy Passion dear ; — King of Suffering, in their stead We have nor wine, nor bread. Offering our anguish, draw near. Jesus of Calvary, hear! What our warrant who cry to Thee, Pressing where, with mien austere. Humankind would reject our plea? — Only Thy compassion free. Reached by our helplessness sheer. Jesus of Calvary, hear! [31] COLOUR Transcendent Colour, thrusting thy sharp spear Athwart the flooding light of Heaven ! How vast The surging diapasons fluctuant Thou loosest from its meshed vibrant ray! A slow rich glow incarnadines the East And sweeps a regal purple on the hills That tremble to the sudden hastened pulse That leaps the gamut from the slow-paced red To startling thrills of throbbing violet. With what compulsive force the splintered lights Ensplendoured shake the brooding depths, and free Th' imprisoned wheels that roll thy chariot swift From swarthy-sceptred night, and, penetrant Pass star-besprent the pale-tressed hours of morn, And straining through the golden glory, crush The floor of reincarnate dawn, surcharged With rosy petals ! Lo ! The ebbing blood Of dying day thou boldest gloriously Enshrined in the ruby's chaliced depths Refulgent; expressest orbed day Within the sapphire's limpid coerule walls ; Thou steep'st the amethyst in tinted wine Delirious ; the chrysoprase to be The wraith of sea and sand thou palest; Form'st the coronal the daffodilly wears, And pluckest from the fallen snow its shroud To veil the vestal lily ; drenchest deep The rose in tides purpureal; disrob'st The sky to gown the gentians, violets [32] In amethystine harmonies dost plunge, And revelest in forest depths and pools Of lucent brown. Thy garments cling around Thy gleaming feet in opaline enmeshed Resplendence, trailing through the radiant courts Of Heaven, where dwells thy soul for evermore. [33] COMMUNION Take, eat, in remembrance of Me, Life's bitter, unsavoury bread; God daily shall send thee thy share: Take, eat, that thy soul may be fed. Drink this, 'tis the cup of Life's wine, — Stress, failure and infinite pain : Drink deep ; — and thy spirit shall find Strength, courage, and God for the gain. [34] YOUR LITTLE FLOWER You put a flower in your letter, A little damask thing, but better It spoke, its bruised petals staining The pages white with vermeil veining, Better than words of power, — Your little flower! An unwrit page is fair, persuasive, Inviting words. — What words? — Evasive, Unkind, relentless, callous, mocking. The floodgates of dull tears unlocking — Yours has for gracious dower, A little flower ! And love may trace rare words and golden, That forge a magic chain, fast holden From crimson heart to crimson heart with Enchanted links of subtle art. — With Fragrance of love-steeped hour. You sent a flower ! [35] THE CAPTIVE LION His cubs are awaiting their sire's return In their hidden, rocky cave, But homeward his longings must vainly yearn, For poltroons the king enslave. They give for the free-blowing desert air But a cage and racking pain. For boundless dominions about his lair. But the length of a galling chain. The voice at whose pealing the far hills shook And the screaming eagles fled. Is silenced with goad and with sharp-pronged hook To a captive's moan instead. The paws that have fought for his royal mate. With an iron bar they strike ; The tongue that fondled each cub's rough pate, They prod with blood-stained spike. And he who the wide, lonely desert loved, And the heavens fervid blue, Is mocked by the brutalized crowds, when shoved By the showman's prod, on view. Up rickety steps must he toil, — the whip, Should he ever halt or growl. Will lash at his eyes and his tender lip. While the fools with laughter howl. [36] Yet he remains still the proud desert king, And they still the low-born mob, They cannot tame wholly the heart they wring, Though with suffering it may throb. His dim, aching eyes see the desert far. Through the ghastly blur of lights. And white, moon-lit sands 'neath the evening star. Past the city's cruel sights : — The Khamsin is sweeping the desert sand, In a burning, swirling cloud. As downward it blows from the mountain-land. With its far-flung challenge loud. The king of the desert with answering roar. Is proclaiming his royal state. For freer than aught on the sea or shore Is this king with his tawny mate. His heart as a wild Eastern chieftain's beats, And with bristling mane stands he, Defying the storm and sand-cloud heats. As untamed as the lighning free. — His proud lion-heart was a God-given boon, With his desert freedom matched, Be sure at your hands, whether late or soon, God requires the gift ye snatched! [37] THE CALL OF VALHALLA There's a champing in Valhalla, And a noise of sharp-shod feet, And a clanging through its gateways, And a steady, steady beat. For the horses to Valhalla Are racing hundreds strong, And they're crowding, still they're crowding, Up its pathways green and long. To the forests of Valhalla And its shady spreading trees, They are rushing from the schrapnel And the battle-blasted leas. In the waters of Valhalla There is healing for their hurt, There is cooling for their fevered mouths, And rest for ears alert. Far from tranquil, fair Valhalla, They have died a noble death ; For their countries and their riders. They have yielded up their breath. O, ye heralds of Valhalla! Let your silver horns acclaim These undecorated heroes Who forego an earthly fame. [38] THE SPELL OF CASALS I Stealing, stealing, on soft-breathing pinion, Floating half soundless away, Luring Sorrow to Music's dominion. Winning the soul from its sway : — II Fluttering fairy feet, are trip, trip, tripping, Magical sylvan streams, a-drip, drip, dripping,, Mosses and lacy ferns a-lip, lip, lipping, Down through the rocky crannies, slip, slip, slipping, Where the shadows of leaves are thrown, And the nightingale, all alone, Outsings the fairy choir; The very dews aspire To breathe a soft, faint sigh. Ere yet the music die. — III The sweet-drawn bow Prolongs the tenuous strain, While silvery bells swing to and fro, Chiming a low refrain, On silvern sound-threads strung. By playful zephyrs rung, Through forest depths of song. Where tuneful murmurings throng. — [39] Soft whispering waves that, filmy, fall On filmier waves below, Sink 'neath the hushing thrall, And into silence flow. — IV Now the music flies, fleeter than the dawn, Through swift measures drawn, Tip-toes, leaping lightly from crest to crest of foam. Chasing sweet bird trills where freshening breezes roam Among the falling leaves, Where Nature gently grieves. — Deep calling unto Deep, Slow and strong and sure. Echoes to shores obscure. Where the lulled soul, asleep, Waiteth Love's allure. Through the wide air sailing, Great-winged winds come wailing. Evening's fragrance brushing. As the tired world hushing. Low they hover crooning, Ere receding, swooning Into something faint and far, Borne beyond the farthest star. Here ^olian strains are caught. Into harmonies are wrought, [40I Where the planet spheres revolve, Where the fine-spun suns dissolve, Turning, burning, hurled through space. Scrolls of mystic music roll, Float and curl and interlace Woven in melodious whole, Down vast vistas sweeping, Singing, loving, weeping, Bringing gracious to Earth's need, Sympathy in generous meed, Threading thin to Earth's small ways, — Dancing moths in moonlight maze, Circlings swift of happy things Borne on gauzy, airy wings. All primeval sights and sounds. Gathered in the joyous rounds; Fountain waters, splashing, play, Falling musical away In their brimming, rocky bowl, Where the feathered bathers trill, Whence the singing rillets spill Into deeper flowing streams. Moving to the world of dreams. There the resonant day and night. Star-lit blue and pulsing light, Merge in tranced sonorous meetness. Till sound dies of sweetness. — VI The long-drawn moaning of unsounded seas Troubles the slumbrous night; [41] With intoning, billowing might They call ! Their pleas, Piercing the empyrean, commingle With supernal paeans, which interflow The star-filled vast, with strange, wild pulsings rife, Where the new-born comets tingle Into cosmic life. The hosts of glory flood the throbbing air. Vivified, aware; With intimate breathings mystical, Compelling whisperings musical. Strong spiritual luring To bliss perduring. The spirit's inner ear Is reverent to hear The pleadings passing sweet, With potency replete To draw the waiting heart, With gracious, heavenly art; Calling, clear and long, In insistent song. Plunging to abysmal deeps. Where the sharp- fanged torture creeps; On milder sorrov/'s shory waves. Sounding faint through shadowed caves. As heaUng zephyrs, heaven-breathed fall. And soft angelic voices call. On rippling seas of sunning joy. Full, luscious notes that cannot cloy. In sparkling scintillations glance, Outrivalling the sun. — Perchance [42] Their echo 'tis that mounts in shimmering foam, Sunward drawing home. The ambient heaven pervades. And into bUssful Silence fades. — VII Pure vibrant strain. Through throbbing pain, Triumphant drawn; — With thrilHng power. The destined hour. Has brought to flower, At rose-steeped dawn, Grief's mystic gain. Silver trumpets unbeholden Peal a rhythm true and olden. Piercing through the glory clouds. Where the whirling vapour shrouds Primal springs of flowing sound. Into human feeling bound, — Deathless faith to sanctuarise. Selfless love to eternise — Human kisses, tender eyes, Throbbing hearts that agonize. Rejoicings manifold and swift. Through the nascent music drift. From the mountain's misty crown. Wind-borne cadences droop down, And melodic, trancing sounds, On palpitating, living rounds, [43] Mount Heavenward. There, Calling upward through the sobbing air,- Again — again — again — , Fraught with human pain — , A long-drawn, quivering strain. That breaks in golden showers On singing birds and flowers. — Fly low, Sweet bird of tremulous pipings, so Your lilt shall not escape us. — Strow Our days With notes of perfect praise. Your ecstasy bestow, — Fly low. — VIII. Pulsing, thrilling, swifter, swifter. Tell it, Tell it, tell it ! Spring's wild secret's flung abroad. Spell it, spell it, spell it! For the lovely drifter. As the warm winds lift her. By winter stern unawed. Has swept the snows away In her gladsome play. — "Sweet is life!" she pipeth, "O To live, live, live. Where the dewy grasses grow ! — Hear my wind-caught melodies. The wild full-throated rhapsodies. My voice alone can give. Take my kisses while you may. Ere, I fickle, farther stray !" — [44] IX The young, young Spring has vanished quite, And summer woos to dear delight All blithesome jocund things alive. The silvery fish leap up, and dive Beneath the singing water. The harebell clusters sway In blue-hazed disarray. And the lily bends to the rose Through the shimmering air that wrought her. Round and round, blithe music flows, While the summer breezes blow, As the soul of the rose is born Of the perfumed breath of morn And the strain of a magic bow ! X Butterflies pass in a circling maze, Blurred is their flight through the sunset haze, In the swift, swept trance Of a faery dance. Thistledown floats With the sun-caught moats That gleam In the evening beam, And drifting bubbles of golden sound Float up from the faintly breathing ground, And pass away In the blanching ray Of the rising moon, As the dim hours swoon To summer's croon. [45] XI Autumn tosses her golden flowers Upon the ground in petal-showers, To the wild bee's droning, And the west wind's moaning; Thickly the petals blow about In a startled windy rout, Presaging the ripened year And the brown leaves rustling sere. Slow and tender are her ways; — Soughings of the bending bough; Vowings of the lingering birds For Southward flight upwinging, That there be no more delays, Lest the winter wind come stinging; Whirring, thrumming insect cry, Dronings of the dragon-fly Hovering over plashy pools, Where the purling water cools The whispering grasses, And the low wind passes Over nenuphars afloat; — Not an immelodious note Through the flowing music rare; All the multisonous air Steeped in harmonies divine, Life's o'er-flowing, heady wine. — Through the murmur, vision-thronged, Glides a fine-drawn thrill of sweetness, Some celestial strain prolonged, Merging into living light [46] That trembles in its fleetness, As it passes mortal sight, Where the wreathing sea-mists melt In the tenuous air, unfelt, And showers of heavenly jewels scatter Over frozen seas, and shatter In rainbow, paradisic notes, Fast and faster, Lightly falling From orchestral, vaster Tones enthralling. Threading down unvisioned ways Of undevined delight. With harmonical rhyming And tinnient chiming They set the Aurora dancing. With flaming colours glancing; — In rayings prismatic, In pulsings ecstatic. They shimmer as showers, Of wind-raptured flowers. Till caught in one glorious Vortex of sound. Which sweeps Iridescent around, And leaps, As the echoes respond, And the crystal notes sprinkle and strew. In victorious, Space-cleaving bound, Past the stars and the blue, — To the Silence bevond. — [47] XII. On the dewy breezes floats The fluting of a myriad throats ; The perfume of all flowery nights Is borne on winging, rapturous flights Of wind and bird. Dreamful melodies are heard, — The minor call of unseen doves, The pulsings of angelic loves, The winds of ocean far away. Blowing o'er the mugient deep To some far untrodden shore. Where the lonely daystar tingles Through the veiling Northern lights. And the moan of waters mingles. At the breaking of the day. With torrential floods of sound That curl and sweep. Filling all the vast profound, As their harmonies they pour Adown the glory heights. Through The unimagined blue, Where the suns their vigils keep. And beneath their potent sway The far-off planets sing On circling wing. — XIII. Down the soft, seraphic way, On the path of conscious Day, [48] With Mercy shod, Tread the feet of God, To haunt His world That, thirled Yet undiscerning, With inextinguishable yearning Hearkens the strong alluring Of mystic harmonies, enduring After their sound hath died. Strange, melodious wooing, To the Soul's blest undoing; Till her halting steps He guide Far from the safe and selfish ways Into the light of blazing days, Into the path of the thunder's leven,— Undone, Yet clothed upon. And meet for the heights of Heaven ! [491 YOUR COMING An hour ago the landscape lowered, The flowers hid their bloom, Unseen the apple blossoms showered Their fragrance on the gloom. The wild bee's hum, the thrush's song, To deafened ears were borne. The dusk of evening swept along The freshness of the morn. When sudden, through the darkened day. You came upon my sight ; And lo my heart was blithe and gay. The world, a world of light. [50] FRIENDSHIP The passionate pulse of Love precipitant May throb with ebbing beat and die away ; His steps may lag upon the languorous way And halt for very weariness ; — and grant To Love all largess, yet, a mendicant. He ever craves for greater guerdon ; Yea, A fugitive, he flies in quick dismay From sweet serenity, unparticipant. But Friendship's calmer eyes are dedicate To hold within their orbs the shadowed gleam Of soundless, unattainted deeps, to dream Of quiet days, and see unperturbate The threatening storm; unwearied, consummate Their trust, and read in Life their own high theme. 51 THE BALLADE OF THE WAR HORSE From his stable roughly led across the fen. Fed and watered quickly, groomed by hasty hands. Up a gangway hurried to a dingy den. Crowded in with others bound for distant lands, Shipped to death or torment, far on alien strands ; Brown and white and sorrel, piebald, red and bay, Gasping for a breath of air, a moment's play Of bestiffened joints and eager tail and mane; Nought but dead monotony and dull dismay. Weighing down the noble heart and puzzled brain. On the fields of havoc halt the lines of men, Stern their faces, set their gaze, and firm each stands. Ready for the fray, and fighting one to ten ; Golden sunlight glints upon their shining brands. Moving in the dawn like waves o'er silver sands. Little sunbeams glitter, shed in sparkling spray On the harnessed horses, black and dun and gray. Waiting with their masters' mid the ripening grain ; Heavy-headed harvest that will not delay, Weighing down the noble heart and puzzled brain. Men and horses clatter fast adown the glen, Sweeping, swirling columns, till the sharp commands Signaled from the hill-top, just within their ken, Call them back to shelter, — shattered, scattered bands, Few there are to muster after War's demands Heavy toll have taken all along the way, — [52] Horses riderless, distraught, and men at bay, At the signal turning reach the height again ; And the glen is silent through that weary day. Weighing down the noble heart and puzzled brain. L'ENVOI Why, oh, why, this dreadful carnage and affray? Horses who have all to lose and nought to gain ; Dumbly driven where the ruthless slayers slay, Weighing down the noble heart and puzzled brain ! [531 EVOLUTION From the meanest form that breathes. From the tiniest seed that dies, There's a ladder up to God On whose steps each life may rise. Fashioned not for self alone, Serving the Creator's plan. Living just to do His will. Flower and angel, midge and man. Many forms are lost and gone, Much is borne for little gain, Yet a wondrous purpose gleams Through the failure and the pain. As they rise from dust to God — Plant and beast — one life they draw. And they mark the ages' flow To the rhythm of changeless law. [54] CHRIST'S HUMBLE HOSTS On the Holy Night there was found no room, E'en in Bethlehem's lowly inn, For the Lord Who came from His heavenly home To redeem the world from sin. But the cattle spared Him their narrow stall, And their manger's fragrant hay. And their Royal Guest, Who was Lord of All, In this humble shelter lay. So to Him are dear all the creatures meek Of the meadow, fold and stall. And the soul that pities these brothers weak Shall be blessed bv the Lord of all. [55] "NOT A SPARROW." "Not a sparrow falleth", saith the Word, "Without your Father, to the ground." Not a feather floateth, zephyr-stirred, But that His Hstening ear hath heard And marked the sound. Not a throbbing heart nor fluttering wing But beateth against the Father's breast ; Not a helpless cry of helpless thing But findeth instant echoing In that dear rest. When the mother-raven lacketh food, Her young, distressed, upon Him call ; When the heron dieth for her brood. Their pains he marketh and her blood, Who seeth all. When the Lord came down on Earth to dwell, He had for hosts the humble kine, And His baby head was pillowed well On fragrant hay in that poor cell. Become a shrine. [56] IN THE WOODS Lured by Springtime's fragrance faint, I wander Through the forest ways of tender green: Fairy fern fronds spread their lacy pinions Over velvet mosses where are seen, Buried safe in depths of verdant softness, Little creatures clothed in lambent sheen. Tiny streamlets trickle cool and shadowed Round the sun-flecked boulders, or, grown coy. Hide along innumerable by-paths Worn by elfin feet in dancing joy. And with rustling grasses heavy curtained From the insistent outer world's annoy. Yonder bounds impetuous, leaping water. Over high-thrown rock and widening shoal. Still in radiant joy the law obeying Which in oneness binds Creation's whole: Then, the calm of Nature learnt, lo! deepened, Flows the river to the far-off goal. Treasure trove, the Trillium, nodding bravely, 'Neath a wavy canopy I spy. Telling woodland secrets to the morning Peeping through the leafy ceiling high, While the watching boughs and dewy grasses Listen with a long-drawn, happy sigh. [57] Giant trees who, age-taught, know the meaning Of the days and nights that come to all; — Why the rough, confining bark grows thicker, Why the pleasant green leaves trembling fall, — These with patience wait the seasons' coming. Through the stress and sunshine that befall. Hours will bring once more the effacing darkness. Through whose solemn hush, the star hosts vast Of the boundless heavens, gazing on us. Kindly scintillations, flower-like cast On tlie breast of sleeping Earth, revolving Ever to the Future from the Past. Thou Who knowest nor hour nor passing moment. Nor confining depth nor breadth nor height. But in ageless thought all ages boldest, Keep Thy world through darkness and through light; Man and insect, beast and little flower, Struggling blindly toward the Infinite. [58] A SUN SHOWER (after ruskin) When the rain-cloud hangs low and the great west winds blow, And rive it, and strive with their space-filling strength To recapture the foe with his golden-edged glow. And drive him, and hive him, strong sun-gleam at length, In their palace of moisture and caverns of snow. Then the hills are awake, as the dark spaces break, And skimming and rimming the brink in their flight. Like the swallows that shake their long wings, as they take The brimming dell, dimming the glare of the height. They chase the swift flashes of sun down the night. [59] THE PRAYER OF THE DUMB CREATURES Looming through the mystic years, Prefiguring our poignant fears, Stands the Heaven-darkened Hill, Where Hatred worked its hellish will With nails and lance and taunting jeers. Thou, whose flesh was torn by men, Reviling all beyond their ken. Wreaking, merciless, their spite On Thee, the patient Lord of Might, Thou knowest well the stab of pain ! Brutish mind and callous heart, So quick to practise fiendish art. Dull to cries of anguish keen, Befoul the ages' blest serene. — On Calvary we dwell apart. Pressing close around the Feet Fast-nailed to the wood, while fleet Whirl the troubled seasons past. And ever-growing griefs that blast Creation's joy, upon us beat. There, unknowing, do we crouch. Unheard, unseen; our rocky couch By the conscient. Sacred Tree, From which God's pity floweth free To all his creatures, we avouch. [60] Man of Sorrows, gentle, njeek. Whose heart was riven, Thee we seek ! King of angels, swift and strong To punish cruelty and wrong, Let thy majestic thunders speak ! [6i] THE AWAKENING STREAM The snows have fled with silent tread From mountain top and plain. The sleeping earth awakes to mirth And claims her own again. Her garment frore she wears no more, But flaunts a veil of green, With crimson dash and golden splash And blue and rose between. The new-born stream, a crystal gleam. Bedews the cushioned moss, And peeps between the tender green The playful zephyrs toss. It hurries by with eager eye To find arbutus sweet, And press its lip where violets dip Unchid their dainty feet. The kindly sun when day is done Bestows a lingering glow, The moonbeams bright the livelong night Its ripples overflow. The piping bird above is heard, He drowns the world in song, And still the stream as in a dream Flows silently along. [62] But half awake its joys to take, The world around it glows, A fairyland, a wonderland, Through which it ever goes. O little stream, that in a dream Dost taste the joy of life; Keep still thy state, nor pass the gate Of wakefulness to strife ! [63] I WINTER Soft snow falls in starry flakes. Presaging Christmas-tide ; Sharp frost spans the streams and lakes With icy fingers wide. Great trees dream of summer days ; — Beneath their roof of snow, Dry seeds learn in hidden ways How to sprout and grow. Southward swallows long have flown To con new lilts for Spring; Carols they have never known From tinkling sleigh-bells ring. Autumn's flowers, touched by frost, Hang down their heavy heads ; Winter's flowers, hoar-embossed, Half hide the garden beds. [64] STRENGTH IN WEAKNESS Life's battle is not always to the strong, Nor yet its meed of interstrewn delight, Nor yet the courage that can mount the height, And, bursting into chords of soaring song. Can triumph over weakness and its throng Of weighted woes ; nor yet the vibrant, bright Celestial ray that on the inner sight Pours plentitude of lasting light age-long. To whom, faint, bears the burden of the day And its fierce heat, and, wanting strength, can keep His steadfast purpose unimpinged ; apart From comrade's cheer, with hope's shreds torn away, Can stand alone, though barely stand; sweet sleep To him shall come to chrism his royal heart. [65] "IS IT NOTHING TO YOU, ALL YE WHO PASS BY?" In that tall and massive building off the street, Whereto sickly men and women turn their feet. In which pale and crippled children find relief. There's a room of hidden horrors past belief. Where the raw recruits of science ply their trade, Their sickening trade, With probe and blade. — Is it nothing to you, all ye who pass by. With an unhearing ear and an unseeing eye? Firm foundations laid by Pity's gentle hands, Strong-built walls that Mercy reared for sore demands. House the poor and suffering ; there the ill and weak. Burdened with their dolours, rest and comfort seek. But the sheltering walls conceal a cruel shame, Most cruel shame, In Mercy's Name. Is it nothing to you, all ye who pass by? Can you not hear the groan and agonized cry? White-garbed women minister, with noiseless tread. Hushed their voices, pausing by each sufferer's bed, Helping, soothing with a gentle touch the ache. — Yet, bethink you, — for that torture-chamber's sake, — Do not drug your shrinking soul with, "All is well !" For naught is well, In that dread hell! Is it nothing to you, all ye who pass by. That the helpless are tortured, nor let to die? [66] After centuries of Christ-lore, heartless ghouls Still may seize a dog or rabbit, and their tools Play at will upon its tender flesh ; and steel. Clamp and needle, goads to measure pain, — the weal Canting loud, forsooth, of man — , they freely use. Remorseless use, — Man's power abuse. Is it nothing to you, all ye who pass by? Do you care? Will you let them Mercy defy? [67] I "I THIRST" Angelicals and Powers, Dominions, light-enshrined, Their heavenly fervours stilled, their royal tasks resigned, Astonied, into awful Silence swept, and Dread, Are conscious only of the shadowed Cross, the Head, So patient drooping 'neath the crown of stabbing thorn. The suffering Body, tender Hands, and Feet way-worn. All passive, while the foolish people jibe and froth; — Omnipotent, yet Victim of His creatures' wrath ! — These depths inscrutable to sound no angel durst, — Through parched lips, the Son of God hath breathed, "I thirst !" No opiate-moistened sponge can quench that thirst Divine, Those awful pangs assuage; for He, Who owns the rills And tossing torrents wild upon a thousand hills. Is parched in deeper wise than cooling streams may aid He yearns for Mercy's rule, and simple kindness paid To man and beast and veriest midge that lives and feels. With prescient vision, sees He, looming down the years. Like dolour borne by other souls; the brutes' wild fears ; The vivisected nailed as He by men accurst, And tortured; and with yearning Pity saith, "/ thirst!" [68] "IT IS FINISHED" Vast, settling clouds of tenuous slime, Half -palpable, and weirdly vague. Float, foetid with the fumes of crime, Sink, loathsome, penetrant, and plague Hell-haunted habitations dread, Where Evil rules and Hope is dead. Invisible to bounded sight. Insidious, and barely guessed, Vast Powers and Princedoms, Thrones of Night, Arch-Demons, do the foul behest Their Master-Mind commands, and surge, In wily hoardes, a Devil- Scourge. They slip relentless where they may. They glide around a careless thought And lap it up, and then their prey Disgorging, send it venom- fraught. Where most it may bear hurt. They tempt With vagrant moods, with Pride, Contempt. But best they love to haunt, and dwell At ease within the cruel heart, For that is likest depths of Hell Where kindred spirits lurk, and start In sudden gusts of fury wild To lash at spirits white and mild. Crude quasi-scientists can probe, Unmoved, the tender nerve alive, [69] Tear quivering flesh apart, rend lobe From lobe, through God-built fibres drive Remorseless steel, the frenzied pain, Dumb anguish scorn, and drive again. Inhuman ! Not for knowledge won Their great Creator's praise to swell Mar they His handiwork : Undone, They seek forbidden fruit, and sell Their Heavenly birthright for a mess Of reeking hellish bitterness. Yet Evil has no longer power Upon unwilling souls. The gloom That flowed but now, in noonday hour, All demon-haunted, from the tomb Of deepest Hell, the Cross to veil. But hid the hosts who then must quail. For from the Lips triumphant broke. Far-ringing through the conscious Vast, — Hark! — "It is finished!" — Christ thus spoke, Announcing that the strife was past. — Shall Cruelty then rule in aught, Since Christ hath Hell's destruction wrought? [70] FAITH Come up ye sorrows from the depths, And shew your faces grim: Come up all dark and hateful things, All fears and horrors dim. Now, stand ye firm and face the soul Ye rack and rive amain : Whence comes your strength, O madding crew, That lash, and lash again? From doubt's incertitude and sloth Your ghostly strength is won : Ye cannot face the soul that trusts That God is foe to none. [71 CHANGE The wheeling circle of the years sweeps swift From aeon on to aeon. Involute, It dips beneath the elder chaos-drift, And whirls it into shapes irresolute. It rides the long parabola of time, And swings the pendant earth in solemn plight Above the vast Eternities. The prime Envaulted world its rim has curved aright. It leaps the gulfs of bleak mortality. And, quick'ning all the cyclic death in life, It rolls, resurgent, with fatality. To man, the prescient, nescient, born to strife. It, from the spumings of its azure bowl, Evolves a world, and from the slime, a soul. [72] A FIELD OF DANDELIONS A pool of limpid brown, A field in greenest gown, With fringe of heavy gold Defining every fold : — The yellow flowers lie. With all the grass and sky Reflected in the pool Of floating shadows cool. A bird comes down to drink. And preen upon the brink. Among the flowers and ferns, Then, twittering, treeward turns. The sun dips down its globe Upon the over-robe Of yellow samite sheen. Laid soft upon the green. To greet the vesper hour, With sun and glowing flower, In glory unsupprest The humble field is drest. [73] THE PATRIARCH OF THE MARSH He twangs his tune to the babbHng brook That ripples under the pasture bars, And sits and ponders with dreaming look Upon the moon and the far-off stars. The yellow lilies beneath him float, Their dark green leaves are his palace floor, And richly wells from his throbbing throat The joy of Spring with its thrilling lore. Below, the violet's fresh perfume Floats up to incense the night with praise. And overhead, in the purple bloom. The white flies, fluttering, thread their maze. The dear old Earth, with its thousand joys, Glides smoothly under the vault of blue, With never a jar in the perfect poise That carries it all the seasons through. The patriarch, on his mossy log. Looks upward and knows that all is well, For there he has dwelt, a wise old frog. For summers more than he can tell. [74] AFTER THE CAVALRY CHARGE "Charge!" and the wild rush surges, Clatter, and, stamp, and cheer ; Each man his charger urges; Time nor for pause nor fear ! "Charge !" and my lady's roan Falls with a shrapnel wound; — Shattered the bay horse, Joan, On whose neck our baby crooned. "Charge!" and a bayonet gory Pierces our racer's heart; — Reft of his old-time glory. See his rich Hfe-blood start!" "Charge!" and they stumble madly ;- Farm horse and thoroughbred, Trampled and mangled sadly ; — Would that my Bess were dead ! Never a moment to kill her, — Up! on my comrade's mount, While still the enemy shell her ; — What does a war horse count? Ah ! but my Bess was human, — Kindly her soft brown eye, Softer than eye of woman. Lighted when I passed by. [75] What does she think of her master? Ne'er did she fail him yet. On I ride grimly and faster, — Only — my eyes are wet ! [76] IRA JUSTA Fierce rage the Nations in their righteous ire, That Freedom should be sepultured 'neath fire, And pillage, and unfaith. No pomp but robes Of regal wrath they wear. Their anger probes The hidden purpose of the haughty foe, Whose minions strike at babes, lay altars low, Drag down fair womanhood into the dust. All Evil make their Good, in Evil trust ! [771 ENDEAVOUR There are jeers in Hell and rejoicing, There is laughter harsh and foul, There's a shout, their victory voicing. And there's many a demon-howl. There's a ribald cry through its portals. That assails the ears of day. And a ghoulish glee over mortals That are massed in deadly fray. How they gloat o'er glittering flashes Of the thunderous cannon's roar! How they throng where shrapnel crashes And intone their hellish lore ! In the fumes of poisonous gases, In their lurid, sulphurous glow, Where the whizzing bullet passes, Are the devils from below ! For they joy in wastage e'er wider Of the stalwart man and beast, And the moaning of horse and rider Is for them a fiendish feast. And they glut their hate on the reeking Of the world's best blood to Heaven, And extol with madness and shrieking. The working of Hell's rank leaven. [78] But the blood of Heaven's anointed Is the sap of Honour's root, That ascends through ways appointed To mature its glowing fruit. For — hark ye — every endeavour Has been first baptized in pain, And the strength that waxes forever Has passed through loss to gain. [79] EVENING The setting sun is glowing through the trees And running harmonies of Hquid green About their bending boughs ; his mellow touch Turns yonder beech to trembling russet gold; Like Horeb's holy bush it stands, aflame Yet unconsumed, and from its depths a Voice Commands the Soul to tread barefoot the ways Of Nature's beauty and her mysteries. [80] THE PARISH NURSE To Laura. She passes by in nunlike garb, A star in dusk enshrined; A spirit from a sweeter world Not wholly left behind. Its mystery surrounds her still In gentle, chastened glow, And lends a lovelier, statelier charm Than earthly spirits know. In roseleaf gown and kerchief white She tends the bed of pain, A vision of transcendent grace To woo life back again. There's healing in her deep grey eyes Which tell of reverent thought, There's soothing in that quiet touch With strength and courage fraught. And clearer far than silver bell That rings o'er moonlit sea. The cadence of those mellow tones Falls sweet and full and free. As merry as a little child. Or stern if need demand. Caress or praise she smiling gives Or issues grave command. [8i] High angels company were meet So rich a life to fill; But she in lowly Mercy's task Doth work her Father's will. Sweet saint, thy sainthood seest thou not, In high humility Thou livest calm and unaware Thine own divinity. And we, who breathe a lower air And live a rougher creed. Are lifted up to tender thought And spurred to nobler deed. Thank God Who sends such souls as these To bless our sad old earth, And teach us through their loving lives His Own dear Love's sweet worth. [82] AUTUMN LEAVES IN THE WIND Tripping lightly on tiptoe you come, Thoughts from the forest, of beauty and joy, Gowned in russet and filmiest plum. Tripping lightly on tiptoe you come. Dancing to music, the wind your drum. Come with the light-hearted zest of a boy, Tripping lightly on tiptoe you come. Thoughts from the forest of beauty and joy. [83] "GOD IS THE DEFENDER OF ALL SUCH" God the Defender ! Bend down from thy Throne, Mark Thou the agony, hear Thou the groan, Lifted to Thee by the helpless and dumb ; Swift to their rescue, Thou Mighty One, come! Ceaseless Trisagions are borne to Thine Ear, Sweet Alleluias, and Te Deum clear. Chanted by Seraphim, spirits of flame. Hymning the glory and might of Thy Name. Up soar the prayers, where Earth's worshippers kneel, — Father ! Dost hear, through their psalms, the appeal Wrung from the speechless, the tortured, the weak? — Pleading for mercy. Thy succour they seek. Creatures Thine Own Hand hath formed, to the end Beauty, and grace, and affection to blend, Here 'neath the human hand, helpless, forlorn, — God-made, — man-mangled — ^lie bleeding and torn! [84] THE FOWLS OF THE AIR I know all the fowls upon the mountains, Where the spreading cedars shade the brook, Where the many rilled and limpid fountains With their murmur charm the hidden nook, As they crisp and ripple light between The water weeds of green. Where the Indian torrents foaming, thunder Past the towering deodar and pine. There the gorgeous Barbet perches, under The umbrageous branches that enshrine In their shadows songs and odours sweet. And for My pleasure meet. Where the grey sea breaker dashes wildly 'Neath the white gull's nest upon the crag. Where the meadow stream meanders mildly By the water fowl 'neath river flag. There I joy in my Creation lief, In rock, and bird, and sheaf. In the dawn I hear the chirp and trilling Of the humble peewit and the lark; And the nightingale whose cadence thrilling In enchantment holds the pulsing dark, As their morning sacrifice of praise And vesper hymn they raise. When the robin and the sparrow chitter. Sore an-hungered through distressful days, [85] In the wind of winter, bleak and bitter, With compassion I upon them gaze, And I bless the hand that streweth bread That hungry birds be fed. Far above the tempest-clouds the petrel And the solitary eagle fly ; In the hollow oak the tameless kestrel Knows her home ; the missel-thrush doth vie With the orange-breasted oriole My bounty to extol. For my pleasaunce have I made them, singing In the cool of forest leafage fair, Or athwart the dazzling blue upwinging In the splendour of their plumage rare; — Ever, 'neath the sun or shimmering star, They hymn Me near and far. [86] ARNOLD'S "LAST WORD" "Creep into thy narrow bed"? 'Tis to wait a Morn more red With the Sun of Righteousness ; With the Dawn of Happiness. "Vain thy onset"? — Nay, not so; Error at thy ringing blow, Though she feign a sturdier part. Quails and shrinks with coward heart. "Thou thyself must break at last"? Round thee men fall thick and fast? — Yea, but truth and kindness move Slow, in ever deepening groove. And the stead}' tramp of feet, Pressing on with patient beat. Wears the groove more deep and wide For great Love's incoming tide. "Geese are swans and swans are geese"? Must their folly still increase? — Yea ; but Folly cannot last ; Reason's rule is coming fast. "Thou art tired"? — 'Tis because To the fool they yield applause, To the knave they bend the knee, Self -deceived by vanity. [87] Therefore dost thou make thy moan, Deeming that thou art alone, While ten thousand with thee fight For the victory of Right. "They out-talked thee, hissed thee, tore thee?"- Be yet loyal, I implore thee. To the righteousness within ; Though thou fall, the Right shall win. "Charge" again then, and again! Suffer, count thou not the pain: Thou perchance at last shall fall ; — Let it be at Duty's call ! [88] THE CALL OF SUMMER The little brook sings on its stony bed And the little bird trills in the tree, The honey bee hums in the clover red ; — O, the summer is calling to me. The sunbeams are glancing in sprays of gold Through the quivering leaves of the birch ; The breezes are telling a tale of old To the listening nests in their perch. The azure is dappled with flecks of white, And the daisies are covering the hill ; The buttercups tremble with sheer delight And the grasshopper's note rises shrill. The hours are tracing a lengthening line On the flowers and the grass at my feet ; An ecstasy thrills like a passion fine Through the colours that wave in the heat. [89] AFTER THE WAR IS OVER After the War is over, What will you do with us ? Say ! Comrades of toil and endeavour, Will you forget us forever, After our hard-won day? After the War is over. Blinded and broken and lamed, When we return from the battle, Cast us aside as a chattel. We who are bruised and maimed ? After the War is over. Victory crowning your arms. Where are the horses who bore you Safely through missiles that tore you, Sharing your fierce alarms ? After the War is over, Coifers will scatter their store, — Crowning the heroes with glory. Feeding the babe and the hoary Lacking their succour of yore. After the War is over. Spare us a tithe of your gold, — Why are we useless nowf Tell us ! Do not to hard masters sell us, We who are early old ! [90] After the War is over, We who have fought in your fight, Pray you to share your compassion, Pray for our requisite ration, Pray for a stall at night ! After the War is over. Men who have won through our strength, Men who know sorrow and anguish, Let us not painfully languish, Only to die at length! After the War is over. Who will remember the debt Owed to the horse of the Empire, Still to be paid by the Empire? — SURELY we'll not forget ! [91] THE WORD MADE FLESH O Little One, why do you lift your eyes, And turn on your manger bed? Sweet Mother, I look on the star-filled skies, That shelter our lowly shed. O Little One, why do you look so far. And why do I feel alone? Sweet Mother, I look past the roof and star. Remembering my love-built throne. O Little One, why do you softly sigh. And why is that half-shed tear? Sweet Mother, Earth's sorrows upon me lie, All creatures a-wail I hear. O Little One, why do you shudder now, 'Neath Mother's protecting care? Sweet Mother, a thorn crown is on my brow, A garment sin-wove I wear. O Little One, whence is that tender smile Illuming your baby face? Sweet Mother, though evil prevail awhile, The world shall be swayed by grace. O Little One, why do you sleep so sound? With never a thought of fear? Sweet Mother, his Father's bright hosts surround Your Babe, — they are mustered here. [92] O Little One, why did you come to me, From radiant realms of good? Sweet Mother, I came that the world should be As kind as my Father would. I93] CRIMSON ALTAR FLOWERS Rare flaming angels bom Of earth and dewy mom, High vigil do ye keep While souls are lulled in sleep. Deep mysteries ye scan Above the altar's span, Down bend your radiant heads Where Heaven its glory sheds. Your crimson petals blaze In reverent amaze. As God 'neath symbols sealed To Man is here revealed. All Nature's pulses beat In mystic union sweet, As Man draws near to God, And Heaven inflows Earth's clod. [94] THE DRINKING FOUNTAIN (To the Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association, England) The City's burden of dust and heat Falls heavy, irking, on heart and feet Of jaded beast and outwearied man, Who, straining, toil through the day's long span. With parching throat and with heat-glazed ey?. They plod along 'neath a blazing sky. When lo ! the farer a trickling hears, A wayside watering-trough appears. How cool the crystal of water flows! How sweet the music of water goes ! — God bless the givers who placed it here, The drinking fountain so cold and clear! [95] "INTO THE HANDS OF A FAITHFUL CREATOR." (In Memory of "BOB", a Manx) Where are you now, O my furry friend, Pleasuring, loving and blest? — You wend Farther and farther from me your way. As through unvisioned lands you stray, Nearer to God, our End. Fashioned like me from primordial slime. Cherished like me by a love sublime. Swept through the aeons and far-stretched space, Set in the fulness of years and place. Here in this world of Time; Living your guileless and trustful days. Asking no boon but affection's praise. Learning in lessons denied our ken, God, the Creator of beasts and men. True in his words and ways. He who hath moulded your lithesome frame, Clothed it with grey with an under flame Tawny and full, and emblazoned white Over your breast and your paws of might. All for His glorious Name; He Who set pulsing your loving heart, Who, with His gracious and potent art, [96] Breathed forth your soul in creative sigh, Softly to shine through your topaz eye, Still will his Life impart. He, Who the freedom of day and night Gave you with meadows of dew-sprent white. Gleams of the moon and the warming sun. Love and a hearthstone, your wanderings done, Guards you, beyond my sight. He, who when sickness had sapped your powers, Tempered your spirit to quiet hours, Knoweth how gently you met Love's sway, Patient, submitting with meek dismay, Trustful, your will to ours. Now He regardeth your wider need, Far from my reach, where the soul is freed, Holding you safe with more strength than mine, Loving His creature with Love Divine, He Who is Love indeed! [97] INCENSE OF THANKSGIVING Glory be to God on high! And on Earth peace! — O Thou worshipped One, draw nigh Ere this incense cease And its scent die! Let it bear our praise to Thee For Thy great Name And Thy glory — Mingled be Crocus heart of flame And the Spruce tree; With them Cloves of Zanzibar And the Mace fruit, Sandal wood of Malabar, Western gum Tolut, That all-sweet are. Cassia, ships from China bore; From the East Land Stacte rare of Hebrew lore; From Bahaman strand Came a rich store ; From Arabia, Frankincense Blent with pure Myrrh, Cinnamon and Benzoin, whence Fragrant vapours stir The benumbed sense. [98] They who bare them saw Thy might On the deep sea, Where the thund'rous waters' height Tossed its splendours free To the blue night ; Hurled its green cerulean crest To the dim dawn ; Plunged adown the purpling west; Sought the moonlight wan, In its unrest; — All its pealing turmoil grand And untamed caught In the hollow of Thy hand, Swirling there, and taught Thou dost command. Thou commandest, too, the hearts Of the strong kings; Puttest down whoe'er departs Far from Thee, or brings Strange fire's dark arts. Thou exaltest high his throne Whose delight, trust, Hope, are in Thy Law alone; Dost defend the just, Though he lie prone. [99] Therefore bring we, from the fair And the waste ways, Gums and spices gathered, ere Came the evil days. Bidding despair; Gathered also in the stress. Of a stern strife, When through hours of bitterness We, in throes of life Trod Thy Wine-Press. God of battles as of peace. Of the weak, God, And of valiant hearts, release Thou the souls down-trod Night to surcease. Lo, our incense sweet ascends In a faint mist, Breathes of Grace that thought transcends In this Eucharist, And ail ill ends. Only Thou art holy, Lord !— In Thy hid ways. Thou dost lead Thy people toward Peace and length of days. And the sheathed Sword ! [lOO] LIBRARY OF CONGRESS lillillllllllilllllilllllL 015 926 509 2 §